


Green isn't a creative colour

by liionne



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 18:59:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/814908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liionne/pseuds/liionne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras just couldn't help himself. Every so often, in twenty second intervals or so, his sapphire eyes would flick to the couple a few tables away, and he would glare at them until his attention was brought back to the table, either by something being spilled, or someone groaning, or by realising he was ruining his own poster subconsciously. But then they would be returned to Grantaire and that girl, like two poles of a magnet, the north being drawn to the south.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green isn't a creative colour

"Who's she?" Enjolras asked early one Saturday evening in the Musain. He didn't point, because that would have been too obvious, and so he jerked his chin in her direction. She was small - although he thought he should be using the word petite - with auburn hair and freckles sprayed across her nose. She was sat on Grantaire's knees, her arms wrapped around his neck and her head tilted downwards towards his. She seemed to be giggling incessantly, leading Enjolras to think that perhaps she was drunk, or at least tipsy.

Courfeyrac shrugged. "Someone interested in Grantaire, obviously."

"They're all interested in Grantaire." Enjolras muttered.

"Because he can't keep it in his pants," Courfeyrac finished. "He's an easy lay. He's good for rebound sex."

"Sure." Enjolras muttered. He wouldn't know, himself. He had never felt the need for rebound sex, nor had he ever sought it from Grantaire.

For the rest of the night he sat at a table with Courfeyrac, Jehan and Combeferre, trying to create decent flyers and posters for the rally they were planning in a few days time. It was going to be outside of a member of Parliament's house that they had found who was against Gay Marriage. The amount of glitter they were using on the posters was astonishing.

Enjolras just couldn't help himself, though. Every so often, in twenty second intervals or so, his sapphire eyes would flick to the couple a few tables away, and he would glare at them until his attention was brought back to the table, either by something being spilled, or someone groaning, or by realising he was ruining his own poster subconsciously. But then they would be returned to Grantaire and that girl, like two poles of a magnet, the north being drawn to the south.

Eventually, Combeferre noticed.

He followed Enjolras's gaze, and frowned. He didn't see anyhting wrong with what was going on. It wouldn't be the first time Grantaire had brought a girl up into the meetings to take her home. He then looked back to Enjolras; he saw the slant of his eyebrows, the angle that suggested annoyance or frustration, and the downward curve of his lips that could only mean he was annoyed. Combeferre raised an eyebrow.

"Enjolras?" He asked. "What are you looking at?"

Enjolras's gaze flicked to Combeferre. "Nothing." He replied.

"I think," Jehan began, looking up from the rainbow he was painting. "That monsieur is jealous."

Courfeyrac raised his eyebrows in realisation. "Enjolras," He began, in a low voice. "Are you jealous?"

"No." Enjolras snapped.

Courfeyrac gave a grin to Combeferre, who did not return it, but rather pursed his lips. As funny as it may have been, he wasn't one for making fun of Enjolras. Especially when he was running their whole mission, and if he was upset things would fall apart.

"Green isn't a creative colour, Enjolras." Jehan said from across the table. He looked to Courfeyrac, giving him a small smile in return of his grin.

"I'm not jealous." Enolras returned. "Grantaire can screw who he likes."

"Who he likes being you, perhaps?" Combeferre offered. Courfeyrac turned to look at him, astounded that he'd made such a comment. And then he grinned.

"Don't be jealous, Enj." He draped a shoulder over their leader's shoulder. "It'll be you some day."

"Maybe if you opened up to him you wouldn't have to be jealous. Cause that'd be you." Jehan nodded knowingly.

Courfeyrac shrugged. "Or you could just go downstairs and pick up one of the many women who throw themselves at you-" Enjolras rolled his eyes. "- and make _him_ jealous instead."

"I'm not jealous." Enjolras replied, putting the lid on the electric blue paint. "And I'm not going to 'pick up' anyone." He stood, then, and put his hands on his hips. "Grantaire," He called across the room. "Could you get your tongue out of her mouth long enough to help us with these, please? If you're going to screw her do it away from my meetings. Thanks." He sat back down, and the air hung with silence. Stunned silence. Everyone was looking at Enjolras.

The girl on Grantaire's knee pouted. He murured something to her in apology, and as she stood up he kissed her. He kissed her for a long time. An eternity to Enjolras. And then the girl disappeared down the stairs to the public bar, and Grantaire stood. He walked slowly over to the table where Enjolras was sat; his cheeks looked a little pink. He took a seat between Combeferre and Courfeyrac, and looked to Enjolras.

Enjolras gave him a long, hard look. "Glad you could join us." He said eventually. His voice had a ring of finality to it, and the silence that had fell amongst the group was replaced with the quiet buzz of chatter. Grantaire was handed an incomplete poster, and he picked up the paint silently. Enjolras didn't say another word to him for the rest of the night; but he noticed when they were done that Grantaire left with the little auburn girl hanging from his waist.


End file.
